Joy
by njborba
Summary: Steve and Catherine share their worries and love as they celebrate Christmas together.


Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to _Hawaii Five-0_ or its characters.

Note: Posting this one here, because someone asked me to post here again. Please enjoy. :)

* * *

 **Joy**

By  
N. J. Borba

* * *

Her eyes sprang open.

A noise from somewhere inside the house had startled her awake.

Catherine propped herself up on her elbows as she glanced around the bedroom. Her laptop was on the bed beside her, open, the screen gone black. She was confident she'd locked the house before heading upstairs, and Steve wasn't due back until just before the HPD charity event they'd be attending later. The house was amazingly quiet aside from the very slight hum of the ceiling fan. She waited another moment longer just to be sure.

Soft chattering from their neighbor's chickens could be heard through the open window above the bed.

She laid her head back onto the pillow. "It's just chickens," Catherine expelled a sigh of relief.

A crash from somewhere downstairs was followed by a soft thud.

Her eyes opened wider as she sat up fully and tossed aside the cotton throw that had been partially covering her. "Unless those chickens have figured out how to open locked doors…" she muttered to herself as she got out of bed and grabbed the wooden baseball bat near their bedroom door. Catherine quietly made her way down the stairs, careful to avoid all the creaky spots she'd come to know so well.

She peered over the railing, making sure no one was lying in wait for her.

The rather odd situation that greeted her upon reaching the bottom step was not anything she'd been expecting. There was a red-robed figure standing in their back room near the large fake Christmas tree they'd put up the day after Thanksgiving. The figure, she assumed to be a man, had its back turned to her but appeared to be in full Santa suit attire, including curly white hair and a red velvet hat.

"Put your hands where I can see them, Santa," Catherine instructed as she approached with caution, "It's still a week before Christmas, a little early for leaving gifts," she expressed. "So, I'm guessing you're stealing, which means I'm a second away from calling the police."

A low chuckle was the reply she got, followed by a very poor rendition of, "Ho, Ho, Ho!"

Steve turned around slowly and grinned at her. A fluffy white beard was hanging around his neck by a white elastic cord. "If you bash Santa upside the head with that Louisville slugger you'll be disappointing a lot of little kids on Christmas morning," he warned, "Besides, I am the police… sort of."

"No, you're an idiot who nearly got himself clobbered," she sighed, slowly lowering the bat to her side.

"You really didn't know it was me?" Steve asked.

Catherine gave a small shrug, rubbing her left eye, "Kind of hard to ID your butt when it's covered in red velvet and fuzzy white trim," she cracked a small smile, shaking her head at the comical way he turned around and lifted the long Santa jacket to show off his butt a little more, "Still too much velvet coverage for my liking," she quipped, "What the heck is going on here?" Catherine finally questioned.

He dropped the jacket's hem and faced her again, "Well, I was trying to shove that pillow…" Steve motioned toward a medium sized throw pillow from their sofa, which was currently lying on the floor by the backdoor. "…under the Santa jacket to give me more of a traditional 'bowl full of jelly' look," he explained. "But somehow the pillow got away from me and crashed into the tree. Then it bounced off the tree and hit the table," he pointed to a wood coffee table, "Where it knocked one of your freakishly heavy brass snowmen statues onto the floor. And then I may have stubbed my toe as I tried to reach for the pillow and ran into the coffee table. Have you put out more decorations? I swear there's something new every day."

She chuckled heartily at his tale of woe, ignoring the way he tried to cover up his folly by finally noticing her holiday decorating. "Who would've ever guessed you used to be a super stealthy Navy SEAL?" Catherine teased. She propped the bat up against the wall and moved toward the snowman which had thankfully landed on a throw rug rather than the hardwood, which it could very well have dented.

"I've got it," he stopped her from having to bend over. Steve hefted the snowman in his left hand. "Seriously, if anyone actually broke into the house you should grab this thing rather than your bat. You could do some serious damage with this sucker. Who makes decorations out of brass, anyway?"

"They're very old, they belonged to my grandmother," she reminded him, taking the snowman from him and rearranging it on the coffee table. There were three of them in stair-step heights. Catherine had always thought of them as a family, father, mother and child. She returned her attention to the man dressed as Santa, "Not sure they even make brass decorations like that anymore."

He stepped closer to her, his hands instantly reaching out to rest on her significantly rounded belly. Steve smiled before he dipped his head a little in order to speak to her stomach, "Are you okay in there, baby?" he asked in a soft voice she'd only ever heard him use before while talking to his young niece, "I didn't mean to wake you up or scare you." Steve felt a mighty kick bump against his right hand in response.

"I feel like chopped liver here," Catherine pretended to pout.

"Sorry," Steve glanced up and shot her an apologetic grin, "But you know how to take care of yourself. You can reach for a bat," he noted. "You've been spooked before," Steve returned his attention to her baby bump; "I doubt _she_ has."

Catherine couldn't help smile, " _He's_ a McGarrett with an equal share of Rollins blood. He'll be fine."

Steve grinned again as he stood up straighter and brushed his lips across hers. "She'll be fine," he whispered.

From the moment they'd found out about becoming parents she had sworn the baby would be a boy, and he was certain they'd have a girl. They'd ultimately decided to go old fashioned and not find out until the baby was born, or until one of them caved and contacted the ultrasound tech who could easily tell them. It had quickly turned in to a fun game of teasing one another.

His smug smile remained as she rolled her eyes at him, "How was your nap?" Steve asked, focusing on his lovely wife.

"How'd you know I was sleeping?" she wondered, glancing down at her shorts and the purple tank top stretched over her expanding belly. She'd been dressing pretty much the same as usual while pregnant, just in slightly bigger sizes over the months.

He reached out with one hand and tried to smooth a patch of her hair that was tangled, "Because your hair is messy on the left side," Steve noticed, "Just like it always gets after you've been sleeping. There's also the fact that you are seven and a half months pregnant and you've slept more the last six months than a bear does all winter while in hibernation. And you didn't realize I was home, until the pillow fiasco."

She gave a small nod, not able to deny how tired she'd been throughout her pregnancy. "I baked enough gingerbread this afternoon to sink a small ship so I went upstairs just to put my feet up for a while. I was looking at baby furniture online again and the next thing I know…" she glanced down at his watch, "I must've been asleep for over two hours," Catherine realized.

"The house smells delicious, by the way," Steve leaned in to her, his nose pressed against her neck, "So do you. You smell like cookies."

Catherine chuckled, "You already ate a cookie, didn't you?"

"Might've had one," he admitted.

"Those are for the kids tonight," she lightly chastised.

He stood up straighter in order to face her. "So, did you finally make a decision on what crib you want?" Steve asked.

"No," she sighed. "But it's down to the oak finish or the white."

"Cath, just pick one," he encouraged.

"This is important to me," Catherine insisted.

"I know, but it doesn't have to be a hard decision," Steve responded, "You asked me to pick a theme for the nursery, and how long did that decision take me? About a half hour," he recalled. "And it would've been more like five minutes if Danny hadn't been pestering me about a case."

"Yeah, you chose a beach theme," she acknowledged, "For a beach house," Catherine eyed him, "Way to be creative."

"Hey, you love the beach just as much as I do," he needlessly pointed out.

"I do," she agreed with a smile, "I just can't decide if I should go with the oak, which would reflect the sand of a beach theme… or the white that could be a representation of sea shells. And then I was thinking if we went with more of a nautical theme we could do a cherry finish, kind of like the old ship cabins for captains…" she trailed off, seeing he was shaking his head. "I just want it to be right."

He held her shoulders, "It will be. Whatever you pick will be great. She's probably just going to sleep in our room for the first few months anyhow."

"Or maybe he'll be a really good sleeper," Catherine countered, "And he'll be sleeping through the night by the time he's two weeks old."

"I kind of doubt that'll be the case," Steve regarded her. He had plenty of qualms about impending parenthood and he sensed she was nervous about something other than what crib finish to choose. "What's got you so worried, Cath?"

She let go a big sigh, "Everything," one hand lovingly rubbed her belly, "I'm afraid I'll drop him, or diaper him wrong. I'm worried he'll be hungry and crying at 2AM some night and I won't wake up, I won't hear him… and he'll starve."

"You shouldn't worry so much. I can always pick up your slack," he teased.

Catherine shook her head, "Not helping."

"Sorry," Steve could tell she was genuinely flustered and he hated to see her worry. "Seriously, it might take a while to get into a rhythm and see what sort of parents we are, but we're going to be fine," he did his best to reassure her.

She pushed her worries aside for the moment and looked him over. "Not that I'm complaining, but…" she reached up and lightly tugged on the white beard dangling around his neck, "Why are you dressed up as Santa? Or am I still asleep and just dreaming?" she wondered.

Steve chuckled, "Have you dreamed about me being dressed as Santa before?" he questioned.

"Nah," she replied, "I prefer your butt with a lot less… velvet."

He smiled, knowing she'd never been shy about admiring his backside, "Officer Lee Stanley has played Santa for the last fifteen years at the Annual Christmas Fair and Charity Auction HPD holds," Steve finally explained, "But today he's down with the flu."

"You agreed to play Santa tonight?" she asked.

"Yes," Steve responded as if it was no big deal.

Catherine eyed him skeptically, "So… you volunteered?"

He sighed, shaking his head, "I may have lost a bet that Danny, Grover, Chin and I had going."

"That sounds about right," she grinned. Seeing he looked hurt by her comment, Catherine clarified her comment, "Not that you don't like doing things for charity or for this island, I just know you like to do things behind the scenes. You don't like limelight, Steve."

"You know me way too well," he conceded, "Which is a good thing," Steve looked her in the eye, knowing there was no one else in the world that he'd let into his life so completely. He kissed her again as she leaned her weight against him. When he finally broke the kiss, his eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief, "I may have lost a bet, but one could say that I actually won…" his brows arched a little, "Because I knew you'd agree to help me."

"Hmm, why did I have a feeling I was going to be a part of this?" she sighed as he pulled away and walked toward the front room. "You know Grace and I are working the gingerbread decorating booth. It was a huge hit last year and I can't abandon them."

Steve smiled as he listened to her, recalling how she'd returned to Oahu and to him just before last Christmas. The HPD holiday event had been their first official outing as a newly reunited couple. Steve grabbed the black garment bag he'd left on the sofa near the door. He pulled down the long zipper as he walked back to her, holding up the clothing items inside for her to see.

"Behold, your elf costume," he waved a hand in front of it, trying to be as upbeat as possible as he hoped she'd play along.

"I did not lose a bet," Catherine eyed the costume with a slight degree of distain.

His smile remained, "But you married a guy who lost a bet," Steve reminded her, "It goes along with the vows we made in March." They hadn't waited long to marry after their December reunion, finally making their love and commitment know to one another. "I'm almost certain Santa and elf costume wearing was right alongside sickness and health, death do us part…" he watched her brows rise contemplatively, "More importantly, you married a guy who loves his community, as you just stated. And you love our community," he added, hoping to convince her.

"That costume will not fit me," she said with both hands pressed against her belly.

He frowned a moment, realizing she was right.

"You can at least wear the rubber elf ears, you have to have elf ears," Steve insisted, "And you can wear the hat and candy cane striped tights, tights are stretchy enough. And those cute curly toed slippers with the jingle bells will fit over your shoes. You can wear your green dress with all of it, the one you like that still fits… that you like," he stumbled a moment and tried to quickly change tactics, "Most of all you'll do it because you have a big heart and you love kids. And if you don't help me all of those kids will have a horrible Christmas."

Her mouth hung open as her head shook in exasperation, "Who knew Santa was so good at emotional blackmail?"

"Oh, really," Steve scoffed at her comment, "Come on, Catherine, the whole Santa philosophy of: being nice gets you a present and naughty puts coal in your stocking… that's pretty much emotional blackmail at its finest. I think Santa perfected it eons ago," he stated with conviction.

"Steve," she lightly slapped his shoulder, "Badmouthing Santa's philosophy is going to bite you in the butt," Catherine insisted, swiping the entire garment bag from him and looking it over. She probably could get the tights on and the other items he'd mentioned, but no way in heck would the green and white elf dress fit her. She glanced back at her husband, "Have I been bad about that sort of thing?" she wondered.

"In my opinion, you haven't been naughty enough this year," he winked.

"That's not…" she shook her head again, somewhat blushing and slightly ashamed that his words had just turned her on, "I was referring to your comments about the green dress," Catherine noticed the evasiveness behind his stormy blue eyes, "You said that it _still_ fits and then you sort of diverted. Pretty sure you were trying to avoid mention of my weight gain. Have I actually said anything about that? The truth?" she prodded.

He winced, "The truth is you have gained weight, but you are still beautiful. In fact I'd say you're even more beautiful than you've ever been," one of his hands came to rest gently against the left side of her expanding belly. "It's not considered being fat if you're pregnant," he insisted, "Although, you might want to think about stopping after one malasada… rather than six," he gave a small shrug, "We're not having triplets."

She pushed his hand away, but smiled, "It was only three. You exaggerate."

Steve chuckled, reaching for her again, tossing the garment bag onto a nearby chair.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers.

"You are beautiful, Cath," Steve spoke affectionately, "You're growing a life inside you and that's amazing. You have not uttered a single word about being fat or feeling ugly. I may have taken some ill-advised advice from Danny about steering clear of those terms while you're pregnant. But what the heck does he know? You're not like most women, Catherine McGarrett, you never have been."

Catherine smiled, feeling a bit emotional at the moment as he spoke so sweetly. "I'm sorry if I'm cranky sometimes. I know that has occurred more than once," she stated. "And if I'm being honest, I have had at least one stray thought about wanting this squirmy, kicking alien out of me. But most days it thrills me. Except for when I've had to pee three times in a half hour."

He captured her lips with his own, savoring every moment he could during the last few months of having her all to his self. "You know," his kisses traveled down along her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine, "We could ditch this whole charity event tonight and just… stay home," Steve suggested as his lips now peppered kisses along her collarbone and the V of cleavage her tank top revealed.

"What about the kids?" she whispered, eyes closed as she enjoyed his tender touch. Her hands slid downward along his sides, to his waist, one skimming lower across his butt. Velvet-clad or not she did appreciate his perfectly sculpted backside, "We can't disappoint them, Steve."

Steve gulped, knowing if they went any further he wouldn't be able to retreat. "Right, charity… kids…"

"Although…" she tugged gently on the black suspenders holding up his ridiculously fluffy red pants, "The thought of getting Santa into such a naughty predicament does have a certain appeal." Catherine allowed the stretchy suspenders to softly snap against his chest as she took a step back. She grabbed the garment bag and slowly retreated toward the stairs, "I have to shower and change if we're going to get there on time," she realized.

He was left standing there with a rather annoyed look, "Santa thinks you're being a very naughty elf right now, and not the good kind of naughty!" Steve called up the stairs after her, "And he has plans to make you realize the error of your ways!"

Her gentle laughter wafted down the stairs.

Steve grinned.

ooo

HPD headquarters was decorated with enough tinsel and red bows to make Santa's North Pole workshop look dreary.

Although Five-0 was not directly connected to the police department they did work in tandem a lot. And they took pride in supporting each other.

In the far right corner of the banquet hall a small stage had been set up for Santa to greet the children. The stage was covered with white cotton sheets to simulate snow. There were several decorated Christmas trees, a fancy plush green arm chair for Santa, and two eight foot folding tables for toy donations. There was just enough room left over for Catherine to stand beside Santa's chair and hand out candy canes as the kids approached. Steve, however, realized there was actually enough room for another small chair beside his and he'd gallantly presented one to his pregnant wife.

"Hello, McGarretts," Danny sauntered over to the stage and grinned at his friends in costume, "You both look very…"

Catherine held a green-gloved hand up in warning, jingle bells attached to the cuff chiming merrily, "If you say ridiculous you lose an arm."

"She's not kidding," Steve shook his head at Danny and made a slashing hand gesture across his throat.

Kono joined them, standing beside Danny, "I think you both look great," she eyed Catherine in particular after hearing the exchange, "Very cute," she insisted with a small chuckle, "But, seriously, how'd you let the boss rope you into being his elf?"

"Guilt tripped me into it… something about sad-eyed kids," Catherine joked, not really upset at all. She regarded the group of friends that quickly formed in front of the Santa stage; the rest of the taskforce as well as a few others. "Actually, he claimed none of you were willing to do it."

"It's not that we didn't want to," Chin tried to cover. "I'd already agreed to be the MC for the auction."

"You know I'm working the gingerbread decorating contest," Grace said, "Since you're helping uncle Steve, I get to be a judge," the girl added.

Kamekona puffed out his chest a little, "I got them to include a shaved ice booth this year." After a long time spent on the wrong side of the law, the entrepreneur was now happily giving back to his community, "We're making shaved ice snowmen with coconut syrup. Cherry syrup for the scarfs, mango for the carrot noses and limeade for the top hats," he was pretty proud of his creation.

"Top hats are black," Danny protested.

The big guy glared at him, "Not in my shaved ice winter wonderland. Don't harsh on my inventiveness, brah. Green is part of my holiday theme."

Catherine smiled fondly at the man, "I think it sounds great, Kami," she told him, "Save one for me?"

"Anything for my favorite lady," Kamekona agreed.

"I have refreshment refill duty," Jerry announced, "Have to keep those meatballs warm."

"Talk about the cat watching the mouse," Danny mumbled, which earned him a slap across the head from Kono, "Hey," he glared at the woman, rubbing his sore ear, "I won that Santa suit wearing bet fair and square, and it included not having to wear a costume of any sort."

Lou eyed the woman in her head-to-toe striped and polka dotted elf getup. He had to admit he felt a little bit bad, but his head shook, "I don't do jingle bells, but you are without a doubt the bravest woman I know for putting those pointy ears on."

"I think she proved how brave she was the day she married Steve," Chin quipped.

"Well, I think you're the perfect woman for the job," Kono asserted, "You are the most patient person I know, which is probably a good trait for having married the boss," she added, seeing the mock-hurt look Steve shot her way. Kono chuckled, "You're really good at talking to kids, you never talk down to them, always reach them on their level," she nodded, "They're gonna love you."

Danny reached a hand out toward Catherine's candy cane basket and she quickly swatted it away. "Ouch," he gently rubbed his thumb where she'd flicked him. "Why does everyone keep picking on me tonight?" he groused.

"Candy canes are for the kids," Catherine lightheartedly scolded.

Steve easily reached over and grabbed one of the candy canes from her basket. He tore open the clear wrapper along the straight end and sucked on the peppermint stick, "Yummy," he made sure to exaggerate the point of his actions in Danny's face.

"Oh, so he can have a candy cane?" Danny frowned.

"She likes me more than she likes you," Steve replied.

Catherine scoffed, "The liking you more is debatable at the moment," she eyed Steve, noticing the confused look on his face, "Hey, you made me put on an elf costume. I think me letting you get away with swiping that is more like you proving my point that the candy canes are just for the kids. Which I guess means…" she held the basket out to Danny, "Here, take one."

"No, I don't want your pity candy cane, lady," the detective pouted, looking to Kono, "And you think she'll be good with the kids?"

"Well," Lou grinned, "She is talking to the both of you on your level."

Everyone had a laugh at Steve's and Danny's expense over that.

Steve broke off half his candy cane and handed it to Danny, each of them looking triumphant as they enjoyed their treat.

Duke came rushing through the hall, announcing that the kids and parents were due to arrive soon. He ushered everyone to their booths.

Steve shoved the rest of his candy cane into his mouth and chewed.

Catherine watched the door as she sat down her basket. "They'll be here in a few minutes… you really need to be in full costume," she leaned in to help straighten out his tangled beard. Somehow he had gotten the elastic twisted, but she swiftly managed to right it. She also made sure to camouflage the elastic so none of the kids would be able to see it holding his beard in place. "How's that feel?"

"Better, thanks," Steve said before grabbing her waist and settling her on his lap, "Now, tell Santa what you'd like for Christmas," he offered.

Catherine smiled and, with a hand behind his head, drew his mouth toward hers, "I already have everything I want," she whispered before closing the tiny gap between them. Their union had turned a little steamier than anticipated when a throat clearing sound was heard from clear across the banquet hall. They both looked over to see Chin tapping his watch. She pulled away and stood, straightening her dress and his beard again, "That was weird."

"What?" Steve asked, watching Kono head for the door to help one of the officers greet the kids.

"Kissing Santa," Catherine commented. "The beard is scratchy, and… well, you're Santa."

"Cath, I'm not Santa," he protested.

She looked him in the eye as the main doors were opened. There was a mixture of children, some from a local shelter who'd be gifted the donated toys later in the evening, and many who were the kids or other relatives of HPD officers. "Yes, you are Santa," Catherine insisted as the excited kid chatter started to grow. Gleeful shouts of 'Santa's here!' could be heard echoing throughout the room as they entered the banquet hall. "You have to be Santa tonight for all of the kids here," Catherine reminded him, "You have to make them believe in you."

Steve smiled up at her, wondering how he'd gotten so lucky to have married such a thoughtful woman.

They did make the kids believe in Santa that evening, together.

Catherine talked to each child before they came to sit on Santa's lap. She welcomed them with a smile each time and handed out the happily received candy canes. Catherine made sure the kids were well occupied while in line, entertaining them with silly jokes or stories in the hope of containing them while they waited their turn. She did it all with an ease that would make any mother envious.

For his part, Steve became Santa.

He'd finally added the pillow to his belly with Catherine's help. He got his voice a little deeper and laughed heartily, greeting each child with a jolly 'Ho, Ho, Ho' and a smile as he patted his pillow-stuffed belly. He listened to a slew of Christmas present wishes that ran the gamut from baby dolls and Legos to one ten-year-old who'd seriously asked for a helicopter. And everything else in between.

Steve gently bounced frightened kids on his knee and calmly spoke to the overly excited ones. He balanced babies and juggled a set of twins. He even lifted a young boy out of his wheelchair so he could come onto the stage and sit on Santa's lap, since someone had mistakenly omitted a ramp up to Santa's platform. And any time he started to feel frazzled, all he needed was to glance over at Catherine to renew his holiday spirit.

After nearly fifty kids, there was just one more girl in the line.

Catherine smiled as the young girl stepped up on to the stage. "Hello, I'm Catherine. What's your name?"

The girl timidly twirled a lock of her curly black hair as she scrutinized the women dressed up as an elf. "My mom says I shouldn't tell strangers my name. I know you just told me your name, but that still doesn't mean you know me or I know you."

Giving a slight nod, Catherine acknowledged the girl's comment. She was honestly surprised more of the kids hadn't felt the same way, "You have a very smart mom. You don't have to tell me your name," Catherine agreed as she handed the child a candy cane, finding it amusing that the same girl who was leery of talking to a stranger had so easily just taken candy from that stranger.

With a wary look shot to Steve the girl spoke to Catherine again, "Do I have to talk to him?"

"No, not if you don't want to," Catherine assured her, sensing the girl wasn't in a very cheerful mood. "But I happen to know he's a really nice guy, and very easy to talk to if there's anything on your mind that you might want to talk about. Santa is not your typical stranger," Catherine tried to explain. "And he's in a very public place here with lots of other adults around to keep you safe. I'm guessing you're here with a parent?"

The girl nodded. She was still somewhat hesitant, but eventually took two steps toward Steve and stood in front of him.

"Hello, sweetheart," Steve greeted her with an easy smile, "What's your name?" he asked.

The girl glanced over her shoulder to Catherine, "Your elf already asked me and I wouldn't tell her because she's a stranger. My mom's a police officer here and she tells me all the time not to tell anyone my name," the girl explained again.

Steve nodded, "Okay then…" he was distracted by the way Catherine was suddenly waving a hand at him, trying to gain his attention. Steve narrowed his eyes at his wife as she tried to mouth a word at him. He gave a small shrug, not catching on. He almost laughed as she began to air write letters with her right hand. It took him a few tries but he thought he finally had it, though he was curious how she'd figured it out.

"Well, that's okay," he finally returned his attention to the girl. "You don't have to tell me your name, Joy."

The girl's eyes grew wide. "How'd you guess that was my name?"

He grinned, "Santa knows lots of stuff."

Joy frowned, "My friend Thomas says Santa isn't real. I think he might be right. Last year I tried to stay up late to catch Santa. I fell asleep. But there's no way he can visit every little kid in the world in just one night. Thomas told me it's the moms and dads that buy and bring you the presents you want from Santa. They're always there when you talk to Santa at the stores so they overhear what you want."

Steve shared a quick look with Catherine, both of them knowing the girl was clearly very smart.

"How old are you, Joy?" Steve asked.

"If you know my name, don't you know my age?" the girl questioned in return.

His smile returned, delighted by her honesty, her moxie, and her big brown eyes. "I'm getting kind of old, Joy. I get confused about some things. I have a lot of kids to keep track of and I don't always remember everything."

Joy watched him for a moment longer. "I'm seven," she finally answered.

"Did you know there are people in their seventies and even older that still believe in me," Steve tried to think of some way to convince the girl to believe in Santa, even if only for another year. He remembered Mary being openly adamant about believing in Santa until she was nearly thirteen.

The girl still didn't seem convinced. "Can I sit on your lap?" she asked anyway.

"Sure," Steve gently scooped her up and sat her down on his knee. "Seven, huh… is that second grade?"

She nodded. "Yep, second grade. You're doing okay at remembering some stuff," Joy observed in an innocent manner, "You can't be too old yet. My great grandpa Henry doesn't remember lots of stuff, but he's at least a hundred," she insisted.

Steve and Catherine both chuckled at her juvenile perspective.

"So, are your parents around?" Steve asked.

Joy glanced over her shoulder and scanned the decorated hall, "My mom's over there," the girl pointed.

Catherine and Steve noticed a woman with Joy's same dark, curly hair. Her hair was shorter than her daughter's and she was dressed in HPD blues. She had one eye focused on her daughter even as she talked to another man in uniform. "Do you think she can hear us from over there?" Steve asked.

The girl shrugged, "Probably not. I can't hear her from here."

"That's very smart reasoning," he smiled. "So your mom's a police officer. What do you want to do when you grow up?"

"Not sure yet," Joy replied, "Right now I think either a ballerina or an airplane pilot."

"Those are great choices," Steve smiled as he pointed over the girl's shoulder to Catherine. He wanted to talk to her about anything other than Christmas for a moment, see if he could get her to open up a little more, "Did you know the elf is really my wife?"

"I thought Mrs. Clause was your wife," the girl challenged.

"She is Mrs. Clause, but sometimes she likes to pretend she's an elf so she can hang out with all the kids that come to see me," Steve explained as if it was the utmost truth. "Can I tell you a secret?" he whispered to Joy, waiting a second for her nod. "Pretty soon we're going to have a Baby Clause."

The girl actually smiled a little, "Anyone can tell that she's pregnant," Joy replied.

He nodded, trying to speak softly enough so Catherine couldn't overhear, "The secret is I'm afraid she's worried she might not be a good mom."

Joy whispered her response in his ear, "I watched her from the back of the line. She talked to all the kids and made them smile and laugh. I saw her hold five or six different crying babies and she calmed them all down before they got to you. She'll be a good mom," Joy assured him, "You can usually tell if people are good with kids by the way they talk to them," she concluded with a confident nod.

"You're a very good judge of character," Steve was impressed by her level of awareness. "So, what do you want for Christmas, Joy?" he hoped he'd been successful in getting her to accept he was Santa, or at least felt comfortable enough with him to talk more freely.

"I told my mom," Joy replied, still rather reserved. "She'll probably get it for me. She gets most of the things I want. I feel bad asking for toys and stuff for Christmas, because there's lots of kids here that don't have anything, not even a house to live in. Me and my mom sorted a bunch of stuff we don't use any more and took it to a shelter. And we brought two new toys to donate tonight."

He studied the child on his lap, listening to how kind she obviously was. Yet he still felt there was something more going on in the little girl's life, something she was reluctant to talk about. "You and your mom did a great thing, Joy, but you still deserve Christmas presents. Is there anything else you want for Christmas… anything at all?" Steve tried to gently coax her.

A sigh escaped her lips, "There's only one thing I really, really want," she admitted, "But my mom can't get it for me, neither can you. It's okay."

Steve was even more curious about what was going on behind those big, intelligent-beyond-her-years, dark eyes, "You can still tell me what you want, if you'd like. Maybe just telling me will help ease your mind a little," Steve offered.

Joy looked him in the eye and bravely revealed, "I really want to see my daddy for Christmas."

"Oh," Steve and Catherine exchanged another glance. All of the other kids had asked for materialistic things.

The girl scrambled off his lap and clutched her candy cane, "Thank you for listening," Joy politely said before turning her attention to Catherine, "Merry Christmas," she waved to both of them before dashing off the stage and racing across the room to hug her mom.

Catherine watched the girl go, "She's breaking my heart big time."

"Mine, too," Steve agreed as he stood and stretched out his achy muscles after sitting for so long. "Can't help wonder about her dad. Divorced?"

"Maybe," Catherine replied, intently watching Joy and her mother. She didn't even want to think about the possibility that he was dead.

"How'd you know her name?" he wondered, "Have you met her or her mom before?"

"Nope, I used my super-duper elf powers," she grinned, watching him frown, "I happened to see a tag that was sticking out of her shirt."

Steve was impressed, but also concerned, "I thought kids weren't supposed to have labels on stuff in case real strangers try to lure them away."

"Putting full names on the exterior of kid's stuff probably isn't the best idea," Catherine figured, "But labeling the inside of jackets, clothes and book bags helps kids and teachers identify their things at school. My friend Shannon told me she had to label all of her kids' school supplies, even the pencils."

"Huh," Steve shrugged, "Guess we have a lot to learn about all this stuff."

"Luckily, we still have several years before our little guy starts school," she said with a hand pressed against the spot where the baby had just been kicking. Catherine pulled Steve's hand over to feel it. Neither of them had gotten tired of the sensation.

"Or maybe our little girl will be so smart that she starts school earlier than most kids," he challenged, keeping up with the playful argument over the sex of their unborn baby. "Anyhow, I can't wait to get out of this getup," Steve said as he reached for his fluffy, and slightly scratchy, white beard.

She grasped his hand in a flash, stopping him from pulling off the beard. "You can't take that off here, the kids are still watching," she warned. Catherine caught the way he was chuckling at her response. "What? I just don't want to ruin the illusion for any of them."

He tenderly rubbed her belly. "You're going to be a great mom because you are completely dedicated to everything you do, Catherine. Your thoughtfulness is reflected in every bit of the nursery; every little detail like the paint color that took you five weeks, seven samples and two coats to decide on, and the blackout curtains to keep the sun out while baby sleeps. And whatever furniture finish you decide on, it will be perfect. I also know that you'll make every Christmas special for this little girl. She'll probably believe in Santa well into her seventies and beyond," Steve guessed.

"Or, he'll believe until he's eight and sees the mall Santa taking off his beard," she countered, "Just like I did when I was eight."

Steve pressed a tender kiss against her worried lips, "Mary was almost thirteen when she caught dad and me putting together her new bicycle in the garage," he recalled. "We tried to tell her Santa had left it and we just wanted to assemble it for her before she woke up, but it didn't work. That was it for her. Doesn't help that was the Christmas just after mom di… left. And just before Dad sent us away," he sighed.

Catherine felt herself easily tear up a little as he told that story.

He noticed the tears and kissed her again. "I promise I won't take off the beard until I'm safely inside the locker room," Steve assured.

"Good, go and come back quickly…" she gently pushed him toward the door. "I'm going to eat shaved ice."

"Just try not to eat six of them," he teased, swiftly edging away from her as she tried to swat his shoulder.

"Santa's leaving you coal, sailor," Catherine retorted, smiling as she watched his retreating backside.

ooo

"'twas the day before Christmas," Steve spoke from the passenger side of his truck, "And all through the Silverado…"

Catherine turned to eye him for a second before returning her full focus to the highway and her driving. She chuckled at his silly rambling, but it was the Santa suit he had on that made her smile even more. "You should think about buying one of those for yourself."

"You have an odd Santa kink," he pointed a finger at her, his brow arched, "And I kind of like it," Steve admitted. "Still doesn't explain why I'm wearing this costume right now, nor does it tell me where we're headed this afternoon," he attempted to pull that information out of her again, same as he'd been doing all Christmas Eve morning. After a long moment of silence, he began again, "'twas the day before Christmas and all through the Silverado, not a Cath was speaking… not even to tell her kind, wonderful, loving husband what the heck was going on."

She laughed at his version of the holiday poem. "You'll see very soon."

He sat back and fiddled with the scratchy beard dangling loosely around his neck. The calm turquoise ocean could be seen in the distance, the coastline clear of any clouds. "Are we going to the beach? I know how much you love the beach, and how much you love me in the Santa suit," Steve tried to make a connection, "So… this is some sort of Santa sex on the beach fantasy you're playing out?"

"Sorry, no," she responded with a chuckle, "Not all of my fantasies involve you."

Steve clutched his chest overdramatically, "I'm wounded."

"Most of them do," Catherine assured him.

"Good to know," he commented, suddenly knowing exactly where they were headed as she took an exit off the highway, "The airport."

"We have to pick up the next piece of our plan," she let him in on that much.

He gave a small nod, "At least we have a plan… even though I know nothing about it."

"It's a surprise for someone special," Catherine didn't reveal anything more than that as she pulled up along the curb right outside the international terminal. A uniformed security guard walked straight over to their truck as she rolled down her window and reached for her purse.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry," the guard was shaking his head, "You can't park here… you'll need to keep…"

Catherine pulled out her 5-0 badge, flashed it at the man and smiled. "I promise we'll be real quick," she let him know.

The guard promptly waved her ahead without questioning.

She parked a couple feet forward of where the man had stopped her.

"You like waving that badge around, don't you?" Steve commented as he unfastened his seatbelt. He'd been so happy to have her back in his life again yet fairly shocked when she'd brought up returning to the taskforce. But he'd been thrilled to have her on the team again the day he'd handed that badge back over to her a little less than a year ago. The entire taskforce had openly welcomed her back.

"Immunity and means makes me feel powerful," she said while exiting the driver's side of Steve's truck, "Even when I waddle," Catherine added, making her way around to the curb. She stood there a moment, scanning the crowd.

He felt somewhat uncomfortable dressed in a Santa suit in public, but when Steve noticed a few kids around he was sure to pull on the beard before getting out of the truck. He put a hand to her lower back and kissed her cheek, "You're cute when you waddle."

Catherine grinned, knowing she truly loved him enough to allow him to get away with comments like that. "You think my waddle is cute now but just wait another month or so and see how you feel," she shot back, guessing he'd still say the same thing. Catherine continued her scan, "Should be around here somewhere…" she finally noticed someone standing near a plumeria tree. "There," she waved, "That's him."

Steve watched her walk straight toward a man in Navy camo.

"Santa!" a gleeful kid shouted, stopping Steve from following Catherine.

A little boy about five-years-old came rushing up to Steve, a huge grin on his face. "I didn't think you'd find me here," the boy said as two worried looking parents came rushing over to stand behind the child. "I was afraid you wouldn't know we're visiting my nana here for Christmas."

With a smile, Steve squatted and patted the boy's shoulder. "Santa always knows where to find you," he told the boy.

"Thank you," the boy's mother said with a genuine smile before they ushered the child away.

Steve finally caught up with his wife. "You do realize if any other strange man told a little boy at the airport that he knew how to find him, it would sound super creepy. Yet, in a Santa suit it seems perfectly okay," he shook his head.

Catherine chuckled before motioning toward the tall, green-eyed man in uniform. "Steve, this is Chief Petty Officer Marcus Carter."

"Good to meet you, sir," the younger man shook Steve's hand.

"The honor is mine," Steve insisted. He turned to his wife, "Still not sure what's going on here?"

She smiled and turned to the Petty Officer, "Think we should let him in on all this, or surprise him too?"

The man shared a conspiratorial grin with her, "We should surprise them all."

"I like that plan," Catherine agreed.

Humoring them both, Steve offered the man his front passenger seat. He sat behind them, his long legs a little cramped in the back. Steve fiddled with his beard again as he listened to Catherine and the Petty Office make small talk about the weather and football. Neither one of them were giving any hint of anything away in what they said. In the spirit of Christmas, Steve managed to mostly keep his natural detective tendencies sedated.

Carter turned in his seat to face Steve. "You should know your wife is amazing, she pulled off something I couldn't have hoped for."

Steve smiled, appreciative of the complement. "She is amazing, in many ways. Any particular way you were thinking of?"

The officer grinned, "Sorry, it'll be more fun this way. You'll figure it out soon enough."

She eventually turned into a neighborhood in Pearl City and pulled to a stop in front of a small house. It was a single story, white clapboard with dark green plantation shutters. The front stoop was a tiny concrete slab with an equally small overhang supported by two narrow pillars. The door was adorned with a festive Christmas wreath and there were white lights strung around the porch supports and stair railings.

Catherine turned to Steve. The Petty Officer had slumped down in his seat a fair bit and was holding a hand up to shield the window.

"This is your house?" Steve asked, already guessing the answer before Carter nodded. "They don't know you're home," he smiled, finally figuring it out.

"I still don't know how or why, but Catherine got me a three day pass so I can spend the holiday with my family," Carter revealed.

"All you have to do is go to the door and tell his family that Santa brought them a gift," Catherine instructed her husband.

"Easy enough," Steve agreed, positioning the beard and exiting the back of the truck.

He was more than happy to be part of a homecoming for someone in the service. Steve had helped Freddie surprise his folks one year, and they'd both helped another buddy get home in time for his son's birth. He wasn't at all surprised his wife had become part of such an event. Steve eagerly walked up to the front door and knocked. A women answered a few seconds later and he swore he'd seen her somewhere before but couldn't quite place her.

"Ma'am, are you family to Chief Petty Officer Marcus Carter?" he asked.

"Yes, he's my…" she paused, a hand to her mouth, "No… Oh, God, please…"

Steve realized his mistake upon seeing her fearful eyes, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I assure you they would never send a guy in a Santa suit to deliver that news," he smiled for her benefit, hoping to reassure her. "I truly am sorry for…"

"Momma, who is it?" another voice called out from inside the house.

As soon as Steve heard the voice he recognized it. He looked down to verify his suspicions and finally realized the reason behind all the secrecy. A little girl with dark curly pigtails stared up at him with big brown eyes. She may not have had her dad's eyes, but now that Steve had fit the pieces together he could definitely see the resemblances. "Hello, Joy," Steve greeted her in his Santa voice.

She was dressed in red PJs with snowmen on them and still looked a little sleepy, no doubt having woken early to open gifts.

"Santa?" the girl looked up at him. "You're the same Santa from the party."

"I am," Steve nodded, "I came to deliver a special present."

"My mom already gave me the bicycle I asked for," Joy let him know, "It's green and pink, no training wheels."

Steve smiled down at the girl, "That's a fantastic gift, but you didn't ask me for a bicycle, did you?"

Joy looked sad as she remembered what she'd asked, "Yeah, but I knew you couldn't bring me my…"

They all turned upon hearing the sound of a truck door slam behind them.

Carter obviously hadn't been able to wait any longer upon seeing them.

"Daddy!" Joy exclaimed the instant she set eyes on her father.

The girl bolted across the front lawn in her bare feet. Her mother stood there in shock as she watched her husband approach. Steve slowly backed away from the door, making his way down from the porch and walking toward the truck. He spotted Catherine leaning against the front of his Silverado watching the happy moment from a distance. The Petty Officer met his daughter half way across the yard and scooped the child up into his arms. Not having seen her in over ten months, Carter kissed his little girl and spun her around.

"I have missed you like crazy, baby girl," Carter told her.

"I missed you, too, daddy," Joy cried happy tears into his shoulder.

Steve reached Catherine and smiled as he wrapped his arms around her. "You are a miracle worker, aren't you?" he dipped his head a little to capture her lips in a tender kiss, making sure not to remove his scratchy beard. He still didn't want to ruin Joy's illusion of Santa. When he took a moment to pull back, Steve kept Catherine close, "You can take the Intel officer out of the Navy, but you can't take the Navy out of the Intel officer."

She chuckled, "Does that even make sense?"

" _You_ make perfect sense," Steve uttered admiringly, "How did you do this? How did you know?"

"Last weekend at the HPD holiday event, while you were changing, I talked to Gloria… uh, Carter's wife. Joy's mom," Catherine explained. "I was careful not to ask outright about Joy's dad, in case it had been a bad divorce and he didn't have visitation rights. I spotted a photo on her desk of her and Joy with a guy in uniform. The intel officer took things from there and…" she waved a hand at the scene on the front lawn, "Here we are."

Carter was now embracing his shocked wife, kissing her.

Joy came skipping across the yard again and stopped in front of Steve. Without a second thought she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Merry Christmas, Santa," the girl said before taking a step back to look up at him. "Thank you for bringing my daddy home."

His smile could have lit a runway at that moment, "Merry Christmas, Joy."

Within a split second Joy was hugging Catherine as much as she could around the woman's pregnant belly. "Thank you, Mrs. Elf-Clause," the little girl said before she pulled away and shot back across the lawn to be with both her parents for the holiday.

Steve took Catherine's hand in his and thought he noticed a tear welling in her eye, "Are you crying?"

"No," she sniffed. Her gaze turned to him and she spotted a tear at the edge of his left eye, "Are you crying?"

His head shook as he swallowed the lump of emotion momentarily caught in his throat, "Nope."

She smiled, "Come on you big softy, I think we should go home and spend the rest of Christmas Eve… alone."

"Hmm, I like the sound of us being alone," Steve agreed, "I'm pretty sure you just want to have your way with me in this Santa suit. This was all just an elaborate ruse to get me back in the suit, wasn't it? You can admit it, I won't think any less of you," he teased.

Catherine gave a slow head shake, "Actually, my plan is to get you out of the Santa suit… in a way I think you're really going to like."

Steve's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "I already do," he guided her to the passenger door, planning to drive her home.

They stood by the door a moment longer, watching the family reunion.

"White," Catherine whispered.

"Huh?" Steve turned to stare at her, not sure if he'd heard her at all.

She gazed up at him, "I'm going with the white baby furniture. It'll look best with your beachy theme."

"Excellent choice," he praised, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Steve," she turned rather serious, "I strive for things to be perfect even though I realize they probably won't be. I worry because, in my opinion, worrying is what good parents do," Catherine honestly conveyed, "I certainly don't have any grand delusions about being a perfect mom, but I think there's a good chance I'll be a pretty good one," she expressed, "What's the last thing I do every night?"

"Kiss me," Steve grinned impishly, "Or sometimes we…"

"I…" she cut him off, chuckling, "I meant in regard to the baby."

"Oh," he realized, his smile turning softer as he recalled the last six months, "You talk to her every night, about anything… everything. You tell her about how we met. You stare at the ultrasound picture and you sing ' _You're The Inspiration_ ' to her."

"Because I love this baby like crazy," she knew those words barely conveyed it, "I worry because I want what's best for him. Not because I think I'm going to be a bad mom. And as long as I don't actually drop or starve him, maybe I'll chill out by the time the third one arrives." She looked him in the eye, knowing she wanted a bigger family with him, "No matter what kind of mother I turn out to be, you need to know I will never leave."

He felt his heart thump a bit faster, not realizing that his mother's abandonment was still a driving force in his life. Steve suddenly understood that he'd pushed his own fears into Catherine's worries. "I've been reassuring you a lot," he acknowledged, "Maybe I did think on some level…" he sighed, "I've always believed in you, Cath. I just wanted to help calm your worries, and I won't apologize for that."

"If you have nothing to fear then you have nothing to lose," she understood. "I mean it," Catherine repeated, taking his hands. She kissed one of them before resting both against her belly, "I'm never leaving you or this family. You're stuck with me," she promised.

"Not stuck," he whispered as they felt their baby kick up a storm, "I am unworthy of you."

"Unworthy is never a word I'd use to describe you," Catherine insisted, thinking about all the ups and downs they'd made it through, "I'm the lucky one to have found you, Steve. You have brought immense happiness to my life. You're a very worthy man, the kind of man who just made that little girl believe in Santa," Catherine marveled, "Or at least made her believe in the spirit of Santa."

"No, Cath," Steve pressed a tender kiss against her cheek, "You did that."

* * *

 **The End**


End file.
